


With Broken Backs And Bleeding Minds

by apocalypseAwake



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-09
Updated: 2013-12-01
Packaged: 2017-12-22 23:15:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/919173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apocalypseAwake/pseuds/apocalypseAwake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony slips back into old habits, and Steve is uncomfortably worried.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Borrowed Time

Tony Stark was a broken man, both mentally and physically. He would never admit it to anyone, of course, not even himself. Unfortunately for the man, there were moth-holes in his thick facade. He hadn't been out of his lab for a while, and he wasn't sure if his girlfriend had been home during those three long days. With how busy she'd been lately, probably not. She hadn't called him, except once when she informed him that she'd be sleeping at work for the next few days. Pepper was out of the question, then. Of course she hadn't noticed.  


While the two were still together, at least. The woman was too busy running his company to notice(or, if she did; to care) his symptoms of descent, which were quite obvious to anyone paying attention. JARVIS seemed to be worried, the poor AI. He couldn't do anything about it but offer his suggestions. The man was long gone by then, he had slipped back into alcoholism and other self destructive behaviors. The light that had once charmed his eyes burning out so slowly. He hid himself-a monster, always a monster-away from the world and spent every single waking moment working on the single thing he thought he could redeem himself with. His suits.

But the woman that he had loved so closely, the girl of his dreams, watched as he slipped away from the world. She hadn't seemed to care. This was a man that she knew. When his behaviors worsened and he was hospitalized for the third time for alcohol poisoning, the red-head had broken it off with him, claiming she couldn't love someone who loathed themself too much to function. She said that she'd much rather they kept the remainders of their smoldered relationship strictly professional, that she thought it'd be better for them both.

Stark had never had more respect for a single person in his life as he did when she packed her bags and walked right out of his life, saying that she would always love him. He'd never seen someone so strong. And so, Tony Stark continued on down his path, finally seeing his true worth; which was consequently nothing at all. He was a man who could fix nearly anything, but himself was not something he had the spare parts to fix.

Steve Rogers had moved into a cozy apartment in Brooklyn, courtesy of SHIELD. It was small and quiet, which was quite refreshing compared to the last year or so of his life, which seemed to be chock full of chaos and confusion. Rogers was enjoying what little downtime he had in between helping to rebuild New York City, press conferences, and a bunch of debriefing. The complex that he lived in was relatively quiet, and the majority of his neighbors could remember where they were when Kennedy was shot, which, although Steve was under the ice when that happened, had caused quite a few sleepless nights studying the history he had missed. For the first time in as long as he can remember, he was happy.

Every once in a little while, he found himself in despair over his lost friends and family. Mainly being Bucky and Peggy, both of which he had loved unconditionally. When those lonely days struck him, he usually found himself heading over to the Stark Tower to have lunch with his friend, Tony. One of these unfortunate moods hit him like a rock on a dreary Tuesday, and so the blond rode his motorcycle across the city and found his way to Stark's home. Familiar with the tower, he walked straight in and began to search for the genius. After around ten minutes, JARVIS piped up, welcoming the man.

"Hello, Mr. Rogers. It would seem that Tony is sulking in his lab." The voice spoke to him from an intercom. Steve thanked him, and began heading in that direction. After being let into the lab by a very distraught looking Stark, Steve questioned his appearance. The man looked like he hadn't slept in days, which was probably true.

"Steve, she left me. I drove her away."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The name of the fic and this chapter are from the song "Broken man" by Corrosion of Conformity. Although I don't own the band or the song, I feel that it fits Tony perfectly.  
> Go check it out!


	2. Tomato soup

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder that I'm pretty much doing this fic all on the fly. I have no idea where I'm going with this story.  
> Please give me constructive comments!

Steve was confused when he first heard the news, a heartbroken Tony Stark looking completely and utterly lost. He had known about the genius's previous problems with alcohol and other drugs, things that the man had entrusted him with. Steve had promised him from the start of their friendship that he would be there to lend a hand whenever needed, especially since Tony had told him about the unfortunate turn Howard had taken when Steve got trapped in the ice. There he stood, once the strongest man Steve had ever known, cocooned in a blanket of pain and anguish. His eyes were red, though they both knew he wouldn't let himself cry. It wasn't Tony-esque.

"What do you mean, she left you?" The blond man sighed, "What the hell happened?"

just stared blankly for a moment, too out of it to respond. "I broke. I broke and she left me." The other man responded finally. Tony nipped at his lips, bringing himself to look his friend in the eye. Steve was no doubt concerned, and maybe a bit confused. The last time he talked to Tony, which was only four or five days ago, the man seemed to be in tip-top shape. Considering that it was only on the phone, however, meant that there was a lot of body language that Steve had missed out on. His least favorite thing about the future by far was the way that everything became less personal, meaning that he could never tell what someone was thinking over the phone. This man in particular-cryptic, hard headed, and arrogant- was his least favorite. A lot of what the genius meant when he talked was found easily in his bodily clues, which right now were horribly sad.

The man was hunched over, his hair matted with sweat and his tank top and jeans stained with grease and coffee, eyes getting dimmer by the second. Steve stood there, eyeballing the other man. He hadn't seen someone looking so destroyed since, Bucky got broken up with by his high school sweetheart, except this was much, much worse. The dark circles under his friends eyes were a telltale symptom that Tony wasn't taking the break up well. 

"Tony," Steve said, stalling for a quick moment, "When was the last time you slept?" He quickly asked, Tony looking up with a faint smirk. He was clearly trying his hardest to go back to normal, even though the woman he thought he couldn't live without was gone. He might as well, he'd have to see her eventually. Tony took a moment to respond, cocking his head and putting a hand to his overgrown goatee. "It's been a few days, I think. I'm waiting for Happy to come pick up Pepper's stuff." He explained, taking in a shuttering breath. The thought of his old friend seeing him like this bothered him, though seeing Steve only came as a relief to him.

Steve gave him a protective look, narrowing his eyes. "Tony, go take a shower, and I'll make you some food. Okay?" He asked, not expecting an enthusiastic reply. He planned to make the man some tea later, after Hogan had left. Coffee was definitely out of the question. Prompting himself to take care of his friend, Steve began to glare at the other. "Jeez, okay, mom." Stark retorted. It was refreshing to hear his friend use some humor. He sulked off and up to his own bathroom, and a few minutes later Steve heard the shower start to run. Time to get to work.

The Super soldier wasn't that bad of a cook, as it turned out. His grilled cheese and Tomato soup were delicious, and soon after eating for the first time in god knows how long, Tony Stark let his guard down just enough to sleep.


	3. Before I Self Destruct

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, guys. A mild warning for people who have eating disorders, please use caution when reading this.

Showering probably took him longer than it should have. He spent most of the time staring at himself in his full-body mirror, watching in his eyes the monster he had become. His facial hair was two times too long, and it reminded him that he should probably not lock himself in a room for god knows how many days. Honestly, he had lost count. The only estimate he had was from how many empty bottles lined the room, how much broken glass and vomit there was spilled on the floor that he had barely bothered to clean up. And when he did, it was lackluster at the very best.

There he was, staring at his own body. His hands were covered in scabs and scratches and he had no idea why. He had gotten skinnier, and very much so. His ribs were poking out just a bit. The man had food in the lab, but he never bothered to eat it. The very thought of consuming whatever Steve was planning on making gave him a deep cramp in his stomach, which would surely have to stretch according to whatever he ate. It hurt to move, even. Even still, Tony stark moved to the shower and got in, letting the warm water wash over him. It was bad enough that he had forgotten the last time he had showered or shaved, and his skin was gross by then. The water, which must've been 110 degrees felt freezing to the man, but it was the highest his shower would let him go. Sitting down in the bathtub, Tony forgot himself for a little while, his skin nearly red. 

When he finally remembered what he was there for, Stark began to clean himself up, using conditioner and everything. He didn't want to worry his best friend more than he already had. Over all, it only took around thirty minutes for him to shower and shave completely, even doing up his goatee. Getting dressed in fresh clothes was difficult. Due to his low bloodsugar, he was shaking all over the place, and it took him a few minutes to get to the elevator downstairs. Steve saw this and swooped right in, saving the day as always. Tony had to admit that whenever he saw the man, his heart gave in just a little. He didn't do anything to deserve someone like him.  
They ate, and no matter how much it hurt Stark's stomach, it was wonderful. 

"Steve, can we watch a movie?" The shorter man requested after they had eaten. Of course the Super Soldier had no objections. "Of course we can. Nothing sad, though." 

And so they watched a movie, a comedy about a woman who was self conscious about how many men she had slept with and a man(who looked so much like Steve that it was eerie) who taught her to not give a fuck. They both sat on the warm, comfortable couch in the main living room, and Tony closed his eyes. He slowly fell asleep, leaning on the blond's shoulder. Steve didn't bother to move the man until the movie was over, when he carefully moved away from the man and covered him in a blanket.

Rogers found himself a piece of paper and a mechanical pencil and sat down, sketching the beautiful man in front of him. He made sure to capture the scars and scabs on his hands, undoubtedly from broken glass. He made sure to capture the deep circles under his eyes, and his chewed off fingernails. He made sure to get all of the flaws, which were exactly what made him beautiful. After roughly an hour, and a lot of erasing(Why he couldn't get it just right, he didn't know. He usually never had a problem with portraits,) he had completed a full-blown drawing. He signed it carefully, and placed it on the glass coffee table ahead of the sofa his friend was sleeping on. He grabbed the dirty dishes from their meal and placed them in the dishwasher, running it before he padded off to one of the many guest rooms, climbing into the bed, which was nearly too short for him. 

Then he fell asleep, because it was night time after all, and he was planning on staying until Tony got his bearings.

Thirteen hours later, Stark was still comatose and Steve didn't have the heart to wake him. The man had made himself breakfast, and was about to shower when he realized that he didn't have any changes of clothes. Quickly scrawling a note to explain where he went, his pseudo-cursive handwriting looked messy. He had written that if Tony had woken up before he had returned, that he was just picking up some things from his apartment and would be back soon, but he decided that it was barely readable and rewrote it completely, taking care to make sure that it was legible this time.


	4. Absinthe And Apologies

Steve Rogers rode back to the Stark Tower on his motorcycle, confident that his friend would be asleep still. With a dufflebag on his shoulder, his weight was off balance, but he was well used to that by now. One of these days he should really invest in saddlebags, so he could actually carry his things. He sighed as he hit lunch-time traffic, reaching up to adjust his helmet. He'd be there soon enough, though. Tony seemed pretty passed out when he left around two hours ago. When he was at his dainty apartment he took a shower, taking his time to plan out how long he'd be away from his home. The answer was simple, really. As long as Tony needed him. He then packed up the majority of his clothes, and brought his sketchbooks and pencils with him. 

It shouldn't have taken him so long, nonetheless. 

As soon as the traffic started moving again, and he got cut off by a tan minivan, Steve began to ride with more purpose. He didn't want to worry Tony if the man had woken up without finding his note. He got there in record time, and opened the doors just in time to hear a loud crash from what he guessed was the third floor. Just then, JARVIS piped up. "Tony's bathroom. Hurry, sir." The AI told him, english accent laced with whatever worry a robot could manage. Steve dropped his keys and his bag, and ran for the stairs. The elevator would take too long. 

It took him around a minute to get to the room, as he wasn't completely familiar with the layout of the third floor, which was mainly occupied by Tony's room, his office, and a few guest bedrooms. The soldier ran through his friend's room until he found the bathroom, yanking at the door handle. Tony had locked it. Steve, now more and more worried by the utter silence behind the door, slammed into it. He broke it open with ease, hurrying to his friend's aide. His eyes blew wide in shock as he saw the blood on the floor, and covering his friend. There was glass everywhere, and it seemed to come from Tony's mirror, which was completely shattered.

"He punched it, Mr. Rogers," JARVIS seems to sigh. Steve looks around the room once more, discovering multiple broken bottles of god knows what. His hands fly to his own shirt, ripping off a long strip and wrapping it around one of Tony's wrists. First the left, and then the right. He pries open his friend's mouth, looking for any blockage. "JARVIS. How much did he drink?" Steve asked. His voice was frantic, but he was pretty damn good under pressure. He was scared, even so. He didn't want to lose this man. "Not enough to hurt him, sir. Mainly, I think, the risk is just the blood loss." 

"Okay. I've just got to get the glass out, then." He breathes, unwrapping the wrist that seemed to be bleeding less. He examined it for a moment, before standing up to look for a tool to get the glass out with. "There are tweezers in the cabinet on the left, on the bottom shelf," the AI told him, so Steve dashed for the cabinet. He found them and raced back to Tony, grabbing his arm and pulling the glass out. Tony wouldn't have to go to the hospital. It was bad, but it wasn't serious. All the same, it took Steve around an hour to get all the glass out of the dark haired man's arms and hands. 

When Tony came to, his eyes were rimmed with red. He found that Steve was staring at him, and that he was in his bathtub. He tried to move his arms, only to feel like there were daggers stabbing into his arms. Tony looked around, moving himself to sit up in the bathtub. The room was mainly cleaned by then, a few splotches of blood here and there. Tony couldn't remember a thing, but he had a pretty good guess judging by the bottles and his mirror. He turned his head to look at Steve again, looking him in the eyes. His head was pounding, and he _hurt._

"Tony..." Steve looked disappointed. Oh shit, not this. Anything but this. 

"I'm sorry, Steve. I kinda freaked out. I couldn't breathe." He tried to explain, knowing that the other man wouldn't understand. They had both been through a lot, but he doubted that Steve would understand his panic attacks. He always felt like he was suffocating right before he got them, and when he finally did, he was gasping for breath and trying to get away from anything and everything. He hoped Steve wouldn't understand, actually. His red eyes stared at Steve then. His forearms were covered in dried blood, indefinitely Tony's. His shirt was torn off. He figured that Steve had resorted to that as a quick fix while he figured out what to do, and then when he patched Tony up, he found the actual bandages. 

Steve looked down, eyes boring into the ground. He didn't understand, of course, which was a relief to Tony but a worry to Steve. He didn't know how he could help with this. He didn't know anything about what to do in this situation, which was unlike many others. During his time in the army, he had seen a few of the men hyperventilating because of the stress, some even going as far as tearing their hair out in clumps. He figured that Tony had a panic attack, and a severe one at that. Looking up, finally, he examined Tony's face. He looked for a tell, some kind of clue as to how the man was feeling right now, which was no doubt way better than before. "Tony, how can I help you through this?" He decided to ask, looking at the other man worriedly.

Tony, the man of quick comebacks himself took a moment to think. "You being here helps a lot. You could stick with that?" His lips twisted into a half smile, eyes thankful.

"Now can I have an aspirin or two? Maybe twenty?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written for my friend JohnWinchestersJournal. Go check her fic out if you're into supernatural!


	5. Señor limpio

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It had been around a week and a half since the incident, and Tony seemed to be doing pretty well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's so short ;-; I've been really really stressed lately.

It had been around a week and a half since the incident, and Tony seemed to be doing pretty well. The gashes in his arms had scabbed over, and a bit of the color returned to his face. He hadn't been having panic attacks, or if he had, Steve couldn't tell. However, the blond did notice when Tony wasn't feeling his best. He noticed gaps in the man's behavior and inequalities that didn't add up. He saw that there was a loose pattern around when the man was feeling worse, which was almost always at night. Steve witnessed the emotion drain from Tony's face nearly every evening, and it was killing him. He had to watch as his best friend, his favorite person, burn himself out day by day. However, another thing that Steve noticed was that it helped Tony a lot when they just talked. Be it sitting on the couch sipping hot chocolate or in the car on the way to a fund raiser or something of the sort, Tony smiled a lot more when they talked, and this gave him hope.

He knew that Tony would make it out of this depression. He was certainly strong enough, the strongest person Steve had ever met. He had to.

The Soldier looked at the eyes of the man next to him, who had had a worried look on his face all day, and it was then that Tony allowed himself to unravel. The genius looked back at him and sighed. "So, I guess I need to tell you what happened with me and Pepper, then." Tony frowned around his words, eyebrows creasing in distress. Steve said nothing, just gave a small nod. "I hadn't slept in so long, Steve. I didn't remember the last time I ate. I got low, so I drank. I drank 'till I couldn't remember why I was drinking, so I drank some more," He began to explain, a pained look clear on his face that he tried to hide with a half-hearted smirk. "I made suits, a lot of them. I made them so I could fix what I broke, but I tired myself out, so I drank even more."

He paused then, looking down for a split second before looking back up into sympathetic blue eyes. "I guess I got myself landed in the hospital to get my god damned stomach pumped, so she left. It didn't make a difference. She hadn't been home for a long time, but I always knew that she'd leave me for good soon enough. I thought I couldn't do anything without her, which is a crystal fucking clear sign that it's not a healthy relationship, right?" Tony pinched the bridge of his nose and finished speaking without missing a beat, though it seemed that he had forgotten to breathe in between his nerve wracked sentences. Steve was looking at him still, watching him carefully. There was no hint of disappointment in his eyes, just sadness.

Tony wouldn't let himself cry. He wouldn't. No matter the look on the Soldier's face was. No matter how horrible he felt, he wouldn't cry. Tony was stronger than that and he would prove it. They stared at each other briefly before Steve pulled the smaller man close, embracing him in a hug. Tony supposed he looked like he needed it, which wasn't exactly false advertising on his part. He felt like he'd just been run over by a truck, and if that wasn't hug worthy, Stark didn't know what was.

After a few short seconds(too short, in Tony's opinion), the two broke the hug. Steve had a concentrated look on face, as if he was about to go on a mission. "Tony," He said to the dark haired man, "You know that we're going to have to clear the tower of alcohol, right?" Steve asked, blue eyes once more staring into brown ones. The look that Tony gave was panic, but it was controlled panic. He had it down by then: Wait for Steve to be out of sight, and then let himself loose. Unfortunately for Tony, however, the Soldier knew that look. He had seen it many times on Tony's face, and even more times back when he was in the army. "We can do it tomorrow, don't worry. It's getting kind of late," He tried to reassure his friend, putting his hand on the other's shoulder. Stark, however, still had that horrified look in his glossed over eyes.

So this time, when Steve hugged him, he didn't let go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 5, also known as "And then there were gayer."


	6. Mourn The Wicked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dreams aren't what they used to be.

Tony awoke with a gasp, sitting up in bed. Cold sweat puddled around him- effectively soaking the blue cotton sheets. His scarred hands immediately flew up to protect his face against the memories that flooded his poor, overheated brain. _What a great method of protection, Stark._ The room seemed to spin as he stood up and limped toward the bathroom- with good cause. Tony kneeled in front of the toilet as his stomach lurched.

Within minutes, his stomach was emptied of all contents. He gasped for air, his lungs and throat burning from the lack of air and the influx of acid. Tony was dry-heaving now. The genius wrapped an arm around his stomach as he tried to get rid of the poisons in his mind, which didn't seem to be working, to say the very least. He pressed hard on his aching stomach, scooting so his back touched the eggshell walls surrounding him. His head fell back and he closed his eyes once more, dipping back into the oasis of sleep that was still very new to him.

It wasn't long before he awoke again, clawing at his stomach. Tony's eyes opened with a sense of urgency. He found himself unable to resist the urges of a toothbrush, not like he was trying not to. It must've been 8 in the morning, because his alarm was going off in the other room.

Just like that, Stark decided on a whim that 8'o'clock in the morning was a lovely time to address the haunting dreams he had experienced. One was about his father, and he could remember that one all too clearly. The other was about the cave, and it was also very clear, as it had happened more recently. Tony glanced at the glass encased shower twice before deciding that he would have to eventually, no matter how much it reminded him of the feeling of gasping for air that wasn't there.

And so he picked up his own crumpled body, glancing into the mirror before undressing and entering the instantly warm water.

It had been maybe ten minutes after Tony got into the shower that Steve opened the door to the billionaire's room, calling out his name. Tony, hurrying to rid his dark hair of the citrus conditioner responded with a gruff "In the shower," to which Steve responded with a blush and a muttered apology. He closed the door carefully, with him on the outside. Steve took a deep breath, combing his fingers through his golden mop, before heading downstairs to start breakfast. Coincidentally, Tony was a _terrible_ chef. When Stark had clothed himself and appeared at the bottom of the stairs about 20 minutes later, he couldn't help but smile at the sight of the blonde humming while he cooked. One doesn't /not/ find that man adorable- It just doesn't seem to be possible.

Tony almost joined in on the humming, but that would be too simple.

"Now presenting Steve Rogers, playing the role of Fiyero!" Tony said, a smile on his face. He wasn't alright, but he could damn well enjoy this moment. Steve was not surprised, of course, the guy had supersoldier hearing, for God's sakes. The blonde simply looked over his shoulder and smiled, despite not knowing the reference.

"Morning, I made French Toast."  


Tony couldn't help but smile back- and not some stage smile, either. He smiled for real. Tony could barely remember the last time he smiled like that, and that's a story for another day. "I truly am a lucky man," Tony quipped, taking a seat and staring at the food that was now being plated. Cap didn't reply, gave a curt nod, and sat across from Tony at the white table. They didn't eat in silence, however, their meal paved in small talk. Which, in Tony's opinion, was far better than actually talking about the relevant stuff.

Eventually Steve confessed to hearing rustling around three in the morning, and then asked if Tony was okay. Stark, in turn, gave a tired look and went to grab his third cup of coffee. "Just woke up. No big deal." Lies. It _was_ a bit deal.

"Looks like it," Rogers persisted. He would get an answer, all right. He would make sure that Tony was fine and didn't need any help.  
"I am a self rescuing princess, Steve. If I say it's no big deal, it's no big deal. I don't need you hovering." More lies, but then the words were out there- words that came out too harsh and too forced. Tony did need someone there, Tony needed help. Tony needed Steve. 

After a few minutes of stunned silence on both of their parts, Tony began to speak up as soon as Steve stood. "Oh, shit, man. I didn't mean-"  
"It's fine, Tony. I get it." Before Steve left Tony to himself, he pulled a piece of folded up paper out of his pocket and dropped it in front of the man. "I'll be at the gym across the street," Steve huffed and then left the room.

Tony stared at nothing in particular for a moment, wondering why he fucked that up so badly. He rested his hands on the back of his neck before plucking open the folded up paper. It was a breath taking portrait, of none other than Tony himself. It wasn't like the one he had found on the coffee table the morning before The Incident, it was... warmer. It was more lively. 

Tony Stark sighed, and took their dishes to the sink before going to sit in one of the many living rooms. He would talk to Steve when he got back, apologize and tell him that he needed him. He'd say thank you. Tony took a deep breath and turned on the television. Anything mind numbing would do for now.

Three hours later, Steve walked trudged up the stairs to the second floor and ducked into the guest room for a shower. As soon as he was out, he went to check on Tony again. Sure enough, he was still planted on the sofa, staring at his hands. Tony stood up as soon as he saw the other man, eyebrows raised. "Hey, man. I'm really sorry about earlier. I didn't mean it." Tony Stark didn't get nervous. This wasn't nervousness. It couldn't be, as Tony was immune to all human feelings. He took another breath, and decided it'd be best to just spit out his thoughts. "I do need you here, Steve. A lot." And then there were hands on his shoulders and lips on his lips and then it was over all too quickly.

Tony blinked a couple of times, clearing his head, before looking up at the taller man. "Well. That was forward."  
"I need you, too, Tony." 

So, this time, when Steve kissed him, Tony kissed back.

And then Tony was kissing Steve.

And vice versa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tony has definitely seen Wicked, and you cannot tell me otherwise.  
> Chapter 6: alternatively known as "What the hell?"


	7. Without Wings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony is exhausted.

Despite recent developments, Tony Stark was still exhausted. With the numbers, the memories, and the thoughts swirling around in his head, Tony was surprised that they hadn't made a tornado. He almost wished they would.  
It had been a couple of days since he and none other than Captain America had kissed- four days, two hours, and twenty-eight minutes, to be exact. Of that time, Tony had spent exactly 24 hours sleeping, which came to around six hours a night. That was 4 hours more than he normally slept, he'd asked JARVIS.

Tony always said, always thought that he was one of those people who could survive on very little amounts of sleep, and it had usually worked out for him. All he had to do was drink copious amounts of caffeine and he was good. This was a different tired, though. His bones ached and he felt a dark gray cloud of anxiety gather on his shoulders.  
It was indubitable that he had been sleeping more, but he hadn't been sleeping very well. Tony felt a bit sick to complain that he was getting the wrong kind of sleep when it was sleep nonetheless. He often woke in the middle of the night, jolted awake by the monstrously sudden flashes of his childhood, the cave, of Obie. 

Tony was just fucking exhausted. He spent more time staring at his hands than staring at his tools, more time thinking about Steve than thinking about Pepper.  
It felt wrong, like he was being dishonest. I mean, my god, it had barely been a month.  
 _"I just can't do it anymore, Tony. I can't,"_ she had said, tears streaming out of her eyes. It had all happened too quickly, too fast for his pain-corrupted mind to come to terms with it. 

Part of the reason that they had ignored each other, the big elephant in the room, was Steve. Pepper was much smarter than Tony at times. She could see what he couldn't. She could tell how this was going to unfold, and she didn't want to be on a sinking ship. If she didn't, then why did Steve? How can two people be in the same house, only twenty feet apart, and still be so far away? 

The worst part was that he hardly tried to stop her from leaving, knew the truth in her words. 

On the fifth night, as Tony laid down in bed and closed his eyes, he began to count down from 1,000. He was usually asleep before he hit the 50 mark. Tony was asleep by the time he hit 800.   
Tony had slept for twelve hours that night, woke up at 3:00 PM to a knock on the door. He grumbled in response, blinking his eyes so they became clear. 

"Can I come in?" 

"Uh, sure, but I'm not exactly a Sleeping Beauty here, Cap," Tony tried to joke, and failed. Rogers opened the door slowly, half expecting Tony to be completely asleep. 

"Good morning. I thought I should tell you that a few people called while you were knocked out, and would you like to go get lunch with me? I know this place in Brooklyn that's been there since I was a kid and it's really delicio-" It was then that Steve cut himself off, figuring his rambling wasn't helping his case. He hated to wake up the genius since he was sleeping for once, but he needed to tell him that Pepper called, and he thought that he should talk to him before Tony thought he was avoiding him.  
Which he kind of was, as they both were, but Steve knew that that's not how to handle this situation.

"Yeah, okay, just let me shower first. Unless you want to join me." Tony said, the last sentence thick with humor. He was strictly trying to make the soldier blush, and hey, look at that! It worked!

Steve curtly ducked out of the room before Tony got the chance to say anything else, headed to his room to make himself look nice. He had no idea how to tell him that Pepper had called him, or that she was asking about Tony.

When the genius had finished his shower and dressed himself in clean clothes, he trotted downstairs to meet his friend. From there they took off and began the drive to Brooklyn. It was only about a half an hour, but Tony still felt a bit suffocated in the confined car, glancing at Steve every few minutes. They talked, but only occasionally. They talked when Steve said for about the thousandth time that week how bright everything was, how new. They talked when some asshole in a red Honda swerved into the wrong lane. They talked when Tony rubbed at his eyes and muttered a few words about coffee. 

When they finally got to the diner, Tony didn't know exactly what to say to the joint- it was pretty aesthetically pleasing, having had been redesigned after a specific alien race had invaded. There was quite a wait, too. A line about twenty people long. Tony didn't seem to mind, as Steve was getting really excited. "I used to work here when I was a kid, but only when my health permitted it. That wasn't that often, but I still remember passing this place on the street," He explained, and Tony nodded, hands in the pockets of his clean jeans.

It wasn't that long before a young boy, around nine years old, came up to them with a pen and a paper. The little boy was talking up a storm, calling them his heroes. "I've even got the Avengers posters in my room!" It was here that he stopped for a breath. "Can I have your autograph, Mister Stark and Mister Captain America?" He sniffed, looking up at the two with so much happiness he could burst.  
Tony recognized that look, it was the same one he had when he was little and had found out there was a new issue of the Captain America comics. 

"Of course! You can call me Steve, by the way. That's my real name," He told the boy, who looked a bit confused. There wasn't a point in hiding that he was Captain America, it was common knowledge by then. He knelt down, to be eye level with the boy. "what's yours?"  
At this point, Tony was impressed with Steve's children skills. There was no way Tony could completely understand the child. He leaned down as well, smiling a bit. Tony took the pen and paper from the boy, waiting for his name.  
"I'm called Ben!" he exclaimed, grinning at the two. "It's nice to meet you, Ben," Tony was quick to sign his name, adding the sentence, "To a little hero himself." He passed the paper on to Steve, who signed it as well. 

The two were then called in to the building, having made their way to the front of the line. After ordering, Steve looked at Tony carefully.  
"Pepper called, she wanted to know how you were doing."  
Tony stopped in his tracks, looking up at Steve. 

He said nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a bit forced, but expect more updates soon!


End file.
